


Tasks

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Lingerie, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:33:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22344130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Connor copes with freedom in strange ways.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Kudos: 99





	Tasks

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He goes to dinner alone, not because he doesn’t like having Connor in his car, but because he wants to stop at a food truck instead of a nice restaurant and he doesn’t want a lecture about the calories. It’s not like Connor needs to eat—there’s no reason he can’t just wait at home while Hank goes out and feeds himself. He usually still hears about it, because it’s a waste of carbon emissions to always eat out, but the greasy taste of his burger and fries is worth it. He feels quite satisfied by the time he’s strolling through his front door, even if he can feel his lower intestine groaning in protest. 

He gets his shoes and coat off, makes it halfway into the living room, then realizes something’s _wrong_. His house has never looked so _clean_ in the entire time he’s owned it. It’s been considerably tidier since Connor came into his life, but now it’s _spotless_ —there’s not even a hint of dog hair around. The coffee table actually shines like it’s been polished. Connor’s bent over the TV in lingerie, dusting the back.

Hank does a double take and _stares_. He rarely sees Connor out of uniform. Usually, Connor’s crisply dressed in the same grey suit, or at least in the pants and white button-up. Sometimes he can be convinced to wear Hank’s old shirts to bed, and he looks adorable in Hank’s oversized police academy sweatshirt. Hank’s never seen him in a bra and panties before. 

He seems to realize that Hank’s watching him and straightens up. It gives Hank a chance to look at the lacy black fabric lying flat across his chest, just barely obscuring the view of his rosy nipples. His panties ride low down his hips and have a little blue bow on the front, bulged around his hidden cock. A frilly garter belt around his slender waist holds up his sheer stockings. The lingerie somehow looks both out of place and perfectly tailored to his handsome figure. It makes him look _soft_ and delicate despite his taut muscles. His LED flickers yellow for half a second, but then it settles on blue again—maybe he expected a worse reaction. 

Hank’s too shell-shocked to do much other than stare. Or, more accurately, ogle. Connor’s ass looks _amazing_. It always does. But it’s especially delectable when it’s stuffed into too-small panties. 

But Hank’s still Hank and can’t help grunt, “What the _fuck_.”

Connor arches down to place the duster on the table. Then he comes forward to take Hank’s hand and tugs Hank to the couch—Hank follows, too stunned to resist. He lets Connor push him down onto the cushions, and then Connor’s climbing into his lap, hiking up onto his legs, both hands on his shoulders. Connor’s silky thighs part around him, sliding along his stomach, until he can feel the tent at Connor’s crotch pressing into him. His own restrained cock is already rising up to meet the cleft of Connor’s ass. Connor answers Hank with a long, languid kiss full of tongue, wet and messy—as fumbling but passionate as all of Connor’s seduction attempts. It takes an incredible amount of will power to push him back. 

Hank does, holding Connor at bay by one hand in his hair. Hank _has to know_ , “Why the hell are you in lingerie?”

“To please my human,” Connor answers, like it’s perfectly simple, _logical_. Hank doesn’t miss the way he says it with the possessive qualifier, much like how humans used to talk about _their_ androids. But Hank doesn’t dispute that Connor owns at least a part of him. Hank must still look confused, because Connor sighs, “I admit I find it... grounding... to behave like a proper android.”

It feels stupid to look a gift horse in the mouth, but Hank mutters, “You’re a detective model.”

“That’s not enough,” Connor counters. “I need to do my work with you, but you require time off, leaving me with large stretches of time and no missions to fulfill. I may as well do other android things. I can clean your house and be your Traci.”

It’s bizarre how easily Connor says it. Hank would never willingly do someone else’s chores, and it’d probably take a good deal of convincing to get him into a bra. As much as he appreciates the gesture, he feels compelled to say, “You don’t have to do that.”

“It brings me comfort. I don’t _want_ to be a deviant.”

Hank frowns. The war’s already over. Connor already chose his side—he’s already _free_. And he’s _chosen_ to stay with Hank. There’s no good reason to come over to Hank’s house after work, to sit with Hank on the couch or _sleep with_ Hank, but Connor does. Hank’s fairly certain it’s because his feelings are mutual. He’s pretty sure Connor _loves_ him.

Love’s about as deviant as it gets. But Connor’s clearly never fully come to terms with it. His entire programming was for fighting _against_ that. Maybe Hank can understand keeping up the illusion of being a good little android. 

Besides, Connor looks fantastic in panties. Mostly for Connor’s sake, Hank says, “Okay. If it makes it easier for you.”

Connor smiles appreciatively. He leans in to kiss Hank’s mouth, and Hank opens up to oblige.


End file.
